“Missed me?” he mumbled against her shoulder, his hands grabbing her waist.
She squealed and turned around, stumbling a little and dropping the lollipop she was toying with. “Oh God. You scared the shit out of me! What on earth—”
He silenced her. Man, he’d missed those lips, the way they opened for him, the shy yet passionate way she sucked at his tongue. She encircled him with her arms, pressed herself against him, and he fucking lost it. His cock surged, powerful, undeniable. Thrusting his tongue roughly inside her, he lifted her by her ass with one hand while the other held the forgotten package he’d originally intended to give her while politely having a civilized conversation. Ha! Think again. So not happening. He ground himself against her, hard. She hesitated a bit, shivering in his arms, but then opened her legs, her knees encasing his hips.
He could hear the voices coming from upstairs, so without breaking contact, he brought her to the far end of the basement to a small walk-in closet. He needed privacy and a hard surface to pound her into. As her back hit the wall, he dropped the package to the floor, yanked her skirt up, and cupped her. She was hot and wet. Thank God, because this was as much foreplay as she was getting.
Cole ripped her panties and grazed bare skin. “Fuck.” His cock hardened further, throbbing against her.
He positioned himself against her tight opening, and the second the tip of his dick touched her damp folds, he broke into shudders. So good. And then he remembered. Condoms. Fuck! He’d never before regretted the time it took to suit himself with latex. Or the physical distance it granted. Now he did.
“Condom,” he said as he placed her down. Her breath was erratic, and her huge chocolate eyes were glittering with molten heat. Damn, she was stunning.
He somehow managed to suit up, and hoisting her back against the wall, he pressed inside her depths, her pussy parting for him. She was so fucking tight his cock was in excruciating pain. Watching her carefully, he pushed forward and took her mouth, mimicking the movement of his hips. Christy was wet and aroused, but even then the fit was difficult, so he eased in as slowly as he could manage, which, taking into consideration the way his body shook with need for her, wasn’t much. When the hair at his groin rubbed against her bare flesh, she choked out a startled cry and her core jolted, bathing him in more liquid heat. He leaned his forehead against her and let out a shaky breath. God, it felt so good to be inside her.
He was now totally hugged by her, her pussy kissing his whole length, her arms and legs wrapped tight around his body. He didn’t like to be so close to his lovers, but this felt different. This wasn’t suffocating him. This was turning him on beyond anything he’d ever experienced.
He pulled back out a little and thrust in again while she panted on his lips, lids at half-mast, face flushed with passion. Heart madly beating, he tunneled his fingers into her hair and held her head tight against his. For some reason he needed to look into her eyes as he took her. On the fourth stroke, her breath caught, her pussy already tensing around him.
Suddenly the door to the basement opened. He froze and covered her mouth with his hand.
“I’d swear I saw him going down here. Cole? Cole?” Shit, some women had made it down there searching for him. He could hear them walking around, and though all his blood supply was concentrated in his cock, which was madly throbbing and not happy about the interruption, he’d swear that was Rose.
Christy looked at him, a mixture of panic and arousal tightening her features, her short breaths slamming into his hand. In such an enclosed space, the smell of sex was so strong it made him drunk with lust. She grabbed him by the ass, tugging him against her, eyes pleading and pussy already quivering. He sank into her, deep and hard. Once. Twice. And she began convulsing around him, her pussy sucking at him in small, greedy pulls while she literally came apart in his arms. Fuck, he wasn’t going to survive this, much less in silence. With the full force of his body behind his plunge, he pressed into her, going as deep as he could and, cock swelling even further, exploding. The voices coming from the room were totally forgotten as jets of semen furiously spurted out of him.
They remained immobile, breathing into each other’s mouths until the voices faded away, his heart pounding so hard it was a miracle the women hadn’t heard it. He couldn’t resist taking her mouth, which was weird because kissing had never been more than a needed formality, a prelude to sex. Once the girl was ready and onboard, he was done with it—too intimate. Now look at him, kissing Christy after the sex. Just for the heck of it…because he wanted to. Because he needed it. He really didn’t know what it was about her that had him in this perpetual state of…idiocy. Probably it was the lack of blood circulation to his brain. Along with critical testosterone poisoning. He just hoped this condition was temporary.
Reaching over her, he unraveled her knot. “I’ve messed it up already, so better let your hair down.” Although she had that just-fucked look anyway, with her face flushed, eyes glazed, and those gorgeous lips swollen. A disheveled hairdo was just the cherry on top, really. Still, he didn’t want his men seeing her like that. That look was for him and him only.
He caressed her soft locks, the fiery red ones. “This is new,” he mumbled. “I like it.”
“There’s something else new too,” she whispered, and he smiled, lowering his hand between their bodies.
“Yes, I’d noticed, baby. I like that too. Very much,” he said into her lips, caressing with his fingers the smooth folds wrapped around him, her vaginal muscles clenching at his touch. “You waxed for me.”
Blushing, she averted her gaze for a second and shrugged. “We went to the spa, and I felt like changing a bit. It was either highlights on the head and bald down there, or going bald on the head and getting highlights down there. I thought you’d appreciate this option more.”
He chuckled against her mouth. Another first. He never laughed or joked while his dick was still engaged. Fucking was fucking; no need to get sidetracked.
She looked him over. “You look sexy in a suit, Mr. Bowen. Sharp. A bit mussed and wrinkled now, though,” she said, smoothing the lapels. “You should have stopped to take your jacket off.”
“Nah, it was worth every single wrinkle.”
He was still hard, and she looked as if she'd be willing to go for another run, or two, but this supply closet was too small and too crowded. Besides, they were both sweating. And soon those women would send a rescue party in search of him. It was just a matter of time before they happened to look in the closet. Damn.
He pulled out, and as Christy shakily stood on both legs, he disposed of the condom.
“What are you doing down here? Why aren’t you upstairs?”
“I was checking the books. It looks like Mrs. Wilkinson decided it was too easy to stack books of the same subject in the same boxes. She decided to liven the search up a bit. Your men have taken most of the boxes to their reading halls, but these I said I’d check down here. Easier this way. And it’s too crowded upstairs. It’s quieter here.”
He took one of the earplugs still hanging from her MP3 and put it in his ear, cringing at the sound blasting from them. Yep, gangsta rap.
“No wonder you got scared, listening to that.” At least with the earplugs she didn’t subject the rest of the world to the aggravation.
She scowled at him. “It has nothing to do with music. You scared the living shit out of me when you jumped me. I thought one of your fans was going mental on me.
Fatal Attraction
style.”
He shook his head and chuckled quietly as Christy rearranged her clothes and straightened her skirt, pulling off her ruined panties. Vintage, as he’d suspected the second they didn’t give away at his initial tug.
“You ripped them,” she said accusingly.
He shrugged indifferently. “Yes, I did. If you expect me to say sorry, forget it, I won’t. I warned you about roadblocks.”
“Roadblocks? Me wearing panties is a roadblock? They’re just panties. Damn expensive ones too.”
“I’ll buy you a dozen, sweetheart. But I’ll keep tearing them if they get in my way.”
She sighed and rolled her eyes.
“What do you have there?” she asked as she almost tripped over the packet on her way out of the closet.
“Your birthday present. Wear it tonight.”
“What do you mean tonight? Where are we going tonight?”
“To celebrate your birthday. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“What do you think?”
Christy glanced around the Italian restaurant. There was food left and right, the smell of freshly baked homemade bread, cheese, and pasta hovering in the air. Sugar, fat, and refined carbs.
What did she think? That she’d died and gone to hell, of course. Or to heaven, depending on the perspective.
“This is Tate’s place, right?”
He smirked. “What gave it away?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The picture of you, James, and Tate over there?” she said, pointing at one of the pictures on her right.
Tate was busy with diners, but the second she spotted them, she came rushing over, a bright smile on her lips, and hugged them both.
“Welcome. Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?”
“It was a last-minute thing.” He looked around. “Where’s that bonehead brother of mine?”
Tate smiled softly. “The bonehead will be in later. He had a meeting with a new client. So what’s the occasion?”
“Her birthday,” Cole said, and Christy groaned.
She so hated the fuss. “Actually it’s not. My birthday, I mean. It was yesterday, and the girls threw me that impromptu party on Friday in the Red Chicken. So I’m served.”
“A girl can’t ever be too served when it comes to parties,” Tate said, winking at her while a Gothic-looking girl approached and greeted Cole with familiarity.
As some customers called Tate, Cole turned to her. “Go take care of them.”
Tate smiled apologetically. “Paige will show you to your table. Paige, take them to the seven.”
Their table was a booth at the far end with candles and the whole shebang.
As they sat, Cole watched Christy intently, shivers racking her body at the intensity in his stare. “Have I told you already you look fantastic?”
Yes, he had. Not that she believed him. She felt uncomfortable to say the least. She had on his present, a short black dress that elevated her tits to unheard-of heights. Her clothes were never this revealing or this clingy. She’d tried it on at home and almost passed out from the lack of oxygen. The damn thing was too tight. There was no way she was wearing it in public, but she’d already been running behind, no time to start scouting for clothes, and then Cole had come and the lust had been so clear in his taut face that she’d changed her mind and decided to keep it on. Now, however, the cocky feeling had deserted her. “This dress is too conspicuous. Everyone’s looking at me.”
He grinned devilishly. Oh God, what the man could do to her with just a gesture. She closed her legs, which did nothing but worsen the tingling. Being bare down there was such a turn-on. While the girls had been getting a facial in the spa, she’d gotten daring and gone for highlights. Then she’d gone completely insane and gotten a Brazilian wax.
Man, had that hurt.
She’d sworn she wouldn’t do it again. Now, though, she wasn’t so sure. Her flesh was so sensitized the smallest brush, the tiniest movement sent tendrils of searing need all over her body, getting her womb to spasm. Cole hadn’t touched her yet, but she was already so wet her panties were soaked.
“They’d look at you anyway, honey. You better get used to wearing stuff like that because I’ll keep giving it to you. I want to show you off.”
She frowned. “Pushy, aren’t we?”
“Not at all. I’m just telling it like it is.”
She rolled her eyes at him, and to diffuse the tension she looked around. Back here there were a lot of pictures too, some quite old judging by the clothing of the people, dating probably from the beginning of the twentieth century. Most of the people from the recent pictures she didn’t recognize, but she saw a couple of shots of the Bowen brothers and Aunt Maggie, who Christy had met when she had gotten hired to reorganize the library.
“I see you made it onto the wall of fame repeatedly.”
He chuckled. “I guess I did,” he said, following her gaze to the pictures. “Family gives you no option. When you’re in, you are in. The older couple is Tate’s parents,” Cole explained while pointing at a picture nearby. “On the left of Tate is Elle, her sister. The man is, was, Jonah, their older brother. He and their father died almost two years ago in a car accident. Tate’s mom moved to Florida, to a seniors’ community, where she ended up being my dad’s neighbor. James met Tate there, and the rest, as they say, is history. Tate was very reticent to get involved with my brother, but we Bowen men are nothing if not persistent.”
She laughed. “No shit.”
“There’s Dad,” he said, pointing at another picture. “In Florida. He’s been there for a bit over five years.”
“Is he alone down there?”
“Yes.” He stared at her for a second as if he was weighing something, then continued, “My mother walked out on us when Max was just a baby. I was ten. Dad never remarried.”
She’d had no idea. It occurred to her that she’d let the man screw her brains out, fuck her blind like Holly said, but she knew very little about him. Funny as it sounded though, she trusted him. Trusted him with her body, which for her was a huge thing.
“Sorry about your mother.”
His forest-green eyes went cold. “Don’t be, because I’m not. Some people you’re just better off without.”
And wasn’t that the mother of all truths. It was a pity her mother had never bailed on her—physically, that is.
He went silent, and she tried to engage him again. “Sorry I was a bit late tonight and made you wait. I had an impromptu video conference with my coworkers from LA.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Ah, so you do have a real day job after all, one of those that pays the bills.”
She chuckled. “I did in LA. I’m a programmer. Now I’m on a sabbatical. Although I’m still working on some projects we had on the back burner, a data-collecting algorithm.”